


Unrest in Gotham

by CursedEarthWanderer



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25936183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CursedEarthWanderer/pseuds/CursedEarthWanderer
Summary: A spate of police shootings in Gotham have left the city in shock, and a mysterious figure has emerged to stoke the flames of discontent among the population. Can Batman find them and stop them before Gotham boils over into violence and anger, is it them that the Batman should be going after?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are always welcome! Good or bad, honest feedback is appreciated.  
> I do not own any of the Batman characters depicted within.

A NIGHT OF SILENCE AND VIOLENCE

It was 10 o'clock on a bleak December evening. Thick, white snow fell heavy and fast, coating everything it landed on, dimming the streetlamps as it drifted past and leaving the streets at the mercy of the jet-black sky. Not ten minutes prior Gotham had been full of the bustle of an eleven million strong city in the Christmas Spirit, a cacophony of noise rising from the streets, lurid neon lights coating the walls of the buildings opposite, dancing sickly colours over the revellers below. Now few remained in the streets, hurrying back to their homes, collars pulled up and heads down at the ground, braced against the thorny wind rippling unimpeded into them. They stopped only to whisper of the three shots that had rang out and silenced an entire city, and of the corresponding flashes that had lit up the roof of the Great Imperial Theatre, as they hurried on the snow that had bent the edges of their hats or coated their hair was left behind in their haste to get away from the building which was the epicentre of the panic.

Turning away from the street Batman looked out across the rooftops towards that monumental structure, it too was silent, all at once its orchestra had ceased and the crowds within had milled out and swiftly headed home.

To Bruce the silence of that grand building was almost as unnerving as the silence of the streets. For years his patrols had been punctuated with the swells of the orchestra, providing a dissonant soundtrack to the sounds of terror he heard nightly, providing some small escape from the horrors he confronted. Now it was silent, as if in shock, and try as he might Bruce worried that this heralded the coming of something far more shocking than he had ever dealt with before, something that could threaten the order of the entire city.

Stretching imperceptibly he took off towards the monument, excruciatingly aware of the almost non-existent noise he was making, a testament to the training he had endured as a younger man and a reminder of the crippling truth that he still had more to master, more to improve if he was to ever have a lasting effect. He took solace in his near invisibility in a Gotham shrouded by snow, and without the overbearing neon illumination, he felt more a part of the night than he ever had before, and some part of him longed for the lights to stay off, so that one day he may look up at the sky and see the stars, stars that he'd last seen as a young boy, before the death of his parents, and before the smog of the city and its lights had sealed Gotham off from the beauty of the night sky, leaving it only the darkness.

Reaching the edge of the last building he strained his eyes out over the street and onto the roof of the theatre, the snow failing to lie, being trampled away by the surfeit of uniformed men plodding around the roof. Nature's only grip was on the two tarpaulin covered lumps on the floor, in the centre of an unfinished symbol shoddily sprayed around the pebbled surface. Noticing two officers standing on the building's edge talking he withdrew a batarang from his belt and pushed a button on his gauntlet, a blue light pinged to life on the sculpted blade. Pulling his arm behind his head he threw the batarang with a flick of his wrist, it arced gracefully over the heads of the officers and embedded itself silently in a rain softened wooden beam behind them. Holding his hand to his cowl he listened to their conversation.

"So who shot the little bastards" That was the one on the left, Bruce didn't recognise him, possibly new.  
"Sergeant Chappell, he's a mean cunt, no restraint" That name rang a bell, "He's had big bust ups with Gordon as well, always comes out of 'em fine though."  
"Well he's done us a favour here right, these are more of those 'A' freaks"  
"One on the left looked like my boy, was just a boy, I don't like it" Bruce's eyes narrowed, if this was right the situation was worsening, cops getting even more unstable, although this one seemed reliable.  
"Meh, probably some street urchin, two problems taken care of, if not, then …. Well shit, his mom'll get a fat payout."

Bruce straightened, tapping the button to deactivate the microphone, he'd heard enough.

"Alfred"  
"Yes sir?"  
"Input data into the computer, another symbol appearance tonight"  
"As you say sir, more bodies too?" He knew he didn't have to answer, knew Alfred would know from his voice.  
"Two more" he said through gritted teeth.  
"Unarmed again sir?"  
"We'll see" he bit out.

Straightening up and spotting the man he needed to speak to, he leapt from the building and unfurled his cape, guiding himself to the roof of the fire exit Gordon had just emerged from. Landing silently his cape billowed out, the rustling of the material lost in the wind.

"This isn't good" he growled, cutting through the howl of the wind with his gravelly tone.  
Jim started; the young officer stood beside him with his umbrella nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Leave us a minute son" Jim's voice was kind, but the authority invested in it was unmistakeable.

Dropping down Bruce began to stride towards the tarp, Jim bringing up the rear.

"You have to get a hold on this now Jim" he said as they drew level with the two lumps on the ground, he'd noticed a size difference before, but only now did he see how pronounced it was.

"They're riled up okay – twitchy" Gordon's voice was defensive but resigned, "I know its not right, God you know how I feel about this stuff, I fought for years in IA to get heavier punishments for this, but the men they're afraid. I can't prevent that."

"Fear isn't good enough Jim, you're losing control of them" he snapped tightly, lifting the first tarp, exposing the young man below to the elements, face clean shaven, eyes wide, bullet wound bloody. He dropped it and lifted the next, Gordon's face went white, the worries he'd had had been correct, "Fear can't justify this" he snarled, turning away from the body, a near copy of the first; but where the first was clean shaven, this face had never been shaved, where the first had wide eyes, this boy's eyes were screwed closed, left in a permanent wince, he couldn't be more, have been more than thirteen.  
Swallowing Gordon looked directly at him, "fact remains, while this guy is stirring up trouble, this won't stop"  
He stood still and silent, looking down on Jim, the man who had looked so tall all those years ago, as he had wrapped his coat around him, looked as small as ever in this moment, diminished by sadness and his stress. Losing the contest Jim looked away, and Bruce took his opportunity, slinking into the shadows and dropping off the building.

He knew he'd get nowhere with Gordon tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 - A NEW LEAD

Reviews are always welcome.

Bruce sighed, slumping slightly in his seat, the soft blue light of the Batcomputer throwing his weary face into stark relief. What he was seeing worried him – immensely: the graffiti symbol that they'd found at the crime scene had appeared before, numerous times, and it was appearing more and more each day. The symbol itself was fairly innocuous, a red A written in sharp, angry lettering, surrounded by a rough circle, nothing at all threatening, nothing explicit at all, but still, the symbol filled him with dread, it seemed to promise something sinister and dangerous.

He had been plotting the locations of the tags on a map of Gotham and colouring them by date, the data didn't surprise him. There was an expanding ring of graffiti spreading out of the Downs, evidently Gotham's poorest were becoming increasingly disaffected with the police's strategy in the area, that made sense, and he sympathised, but the pattern was only consistent back six weeks. That was the real worry, past that point appearances had become seemingly random, scattered around the city with no rhyme or reason, no doubt there was someone behind this, pushing it for their own means, and using the tension to get what they wanted. That would only lead to pain, Bruce decided, and would hurt only those being used. He had to stop it.

Sensing movement behind him Bruce stilled. "Alfred." He said turning in his chair to face the man descending into the cave.

"All these years and I still don't understand how you can hear me over the racket of that computer" he drawled, the exasperation on his face masking the amusement he felt underneath.

"I listen Alfred, I remember you used to have a similarly baffling power whenever I was trying to sneak out of the manor, maybe old age is dulling your senses"

Alfred smiled softly; it wasn't often enough he heard Bruce speak of fond memories. Biting back the various retorts he had at the tip of his tongue he indulged his ward, "perhaps so Sir".

At that Bruce turned away and Alfred seemed to sense that the conversation was finished, so he put down the tray he had brought on the desk beside Bruce. "Egg whites and raw steak sir, with some water to wash it down" stated Alfred, not bothering to hide his distaste, "perhaps tomorrow a raw goats head and monkey eye souffle sir"

"I need it Alfred" Bruce replied, steadfastly ignoring the sarcasm.

"Indeed sir, I've also taken the liberty of bringing a selection of Gotham papers, they all seem to believe that the graffiti is related to a youtube channel which has been uploading anti-authority content."

Shifting Bruce picked up the first paper. "Any Arch Gotham – The anti-statist channel stoking fires" he read ponderously. "Computer bring up that channel", the computer complied instantly, "now find me the date of the first upload", Bruce had barely finished speaking before a date appeared on the screen: 29/08/2020.

Standing suddenly Bruce braced himself against the desk, rigid now, like a man frozen in place. "Now cross reference that date with the dates the graffiti appeared. Just like that the computer retrieved a match.

"The first symbol, this date is significant Alfred", slamming back down into his seat Bruce hunched over the keyboard keying in to the GCPD incidence database, "Something happened around this time, something angered someone"

Spotting it first Alfred spoke up, "There sir, on the 16th August, a young woman was hit by a police car, it was recorded as an accident"

"Alexanne Goretska" Bruce hummed, punching in more data, "Child of Bertram and Ada Goretska, her Mother passed away on the 23rd August after her death, her Father is her last remaining relative."

Bruce stood, and strode to the Batmobile with direction, leaning in and tapping in the man's address, he lived in an apartment in a Gotham high rise near Wonder Tower. Out of the corner of his eye Bruce noted Alfred staring at him uneasily.

"Sir …. Are you sure that visiting this man is the right idea, if you're wron.."

Bruce cut him off before he could finish, "I've got to go Alfred, this is the only worthwhile lead we have"

"If he's innocent" Alfred began.

"Then he's got nothing to fear, this may be painful for him to relive, but if there's even a one percent chance this is our man then I have to take it as an absolute certainty."

"Are you really certain that this is what you should even be targeting Sir, expressing an opinion isn't a crime."

"I know Alfred, don't worry, I plan on visiting Sergeant Chappell tonight as well, and I think Bruce Wayne is due an impromptu meeting with the commissioner to discuss slipping police standards and continued funding for the GCPD"

"I hope you know what you're doing Sir" said Alfred turning on his heels and following the stairs out of the cave.

"So do I," Bruce whispered to his retreating back.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing up on the rooftop Bruce thought back to his meeting with Gordon, it had gone nowhere, as he'd expected. Gordon wasn't willing to make the concessions he wanted, and his bluff didn't pay off, Bruce needed WayneTech in the GCPD to gain backdoor access, to go through with the threat to revoke the use of his tech was to cripple Batman. Just as he began to think about his next play the sensors he'd placed on the apartment front door earlier went off, Chappell was home, it was time to make his move. The Jim conversation could be reflected upon later.

Bruce grimaced as he began to glide towards Chappell's apartment building, the cold wind bit into his face like one million miniscule razors and the flurries of drifting snow made it harder to concentrate on the window he was aiming for. He leaned back in the air, slowing his flight, as he braced himself, landing silently on the fire escape railing with perfect balance.

Looking through the window Bruce observed the apartment, it was filthy: half empty bottles and cans strewn about the floor, week old newspapers open on the table, walls moulding and rotting from the damp. Suddenly a single uncovered lightbulb lit up, bathing the room in a jaundice yellow glow, strengthening the image of rot.

"I can almost smell it", thought Bruce as he ducked down from the window. Readying himself he slipped a hand up to the window and slid it open, slinking in through the open space. As he did so he caught a glimpse of Chappell standing at the kitchen stove. Standing quickly and striding silently towards him he drew himself up to his tallest and tensed, standing stock still directly behind him.

Sergeant Chappell whirled around and walked headfirst into the Batman's chest, bouncing off it as if it was made of steel. In a fit of shock and fright he threw the pan in his hand at Bruce as hard as he could as he fell. But it was plucked from the air without a flinch and in a blink hurled back at him where it hit his kneecap with a sickening crunch.

"Aaaah, you bastard, you fucking bastard, my knee" he screamed, pain etched across his features.

"You shot and killed two unarmed young men last night" Bruce responded calmly, stepping closer to the writhing Sergeant, "Your knee means nothing"

"Street rats, criminals I shot, they wanted me dead, all cops de…."

"And you proved that you're no better than them, no better than any common murderer" Bruce snarled, stepping down on Chappell's injured knee, eliciting a strangled cry.

"I've done nothin wrong, they let me go this morning"

"I could end you here, as far as I'm concerned that's what you're asking for." At this Chappell blanched and shuffled back away from the solid figure above him until his head slammed into the counter.

"Jesus Christ, look I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't want to die, please, I only did it to protect the force – the graffiti is spreading, the message is spreading, oh god."  
Bruce fought the urge to sneer as he bent down towards the grovelling officer, seizing him by his jacket and hoisting him up into the air with practiced ease. "More of these perpetrators are going to die aren't they."

"No, no, it was a mistake, a mistake hon…."

"Don't lie to me!" Bruce growled, he'd had enough of this. In one smooth movement he flipped the officer around in the air and slammed his back down onto the counter. "I'll break every bone in your body if that's what it takes"

Hearing a faint trickling noise Bruce glanced down, it appeared Chappell had lost control of his bladder, his trousers were soaking through, bubbles forming in his nostrils as he gasped and whimpered. Sensing weakness he pressed on. "More officers are going to follow your lead aren't they?"

"Ye..Yes, yes I'm sorry, we agreed, do them in before they get us, I'm so sorry, please, please don't hurt me" blubbered Chappell.

"Who! Give me the names of the other cops!"

"Jenkins, Bourne, Bowman, Luckhurst, Parkinson, Jarvis, Bainbridge" the names flowed from his mouth without pause.

'What a pathetic capitulation' disgust rose in Bruce's mind before he could shove it down, and he thought about how easy it would be to end Chappell's life in this moment, how much pain it could potentially prevent, 'No, you'll be no better than him' Bruce released his hold on Chappell.

"Thank yo-" Just as Chappell began to speak Bruce slammed his fist down onto his left hand, it crumpled with a sickening crunch. The scream that followed was piercing.

"You're left handed aren't you?" Bruce asked, upon getting no response from the sobbing man he leaned down close to the man, "You are left handed aren't you" his tone this time was menacing, a warning.  
Chappell's eyes widened and he shook his head. Sighing Bruce stood up and slammed his fist down onto Chappell's right hand, the crack reverberated through the room. Chappell's mouth widened in soundless agony.

As Bruce stalked out he paused by the door, "You'll never fire at another man again, consider this a mercy" Chappell could only stare at the back of the nightmarish figure in terror as he leapt out of the window, disappearing into the night.


End file.
